


So It's Gonna Be Forever (Or It's Gonna Go Down In Flames)

by DepravedAndUnstable



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Creeper Peter, M/M, Protective Derek, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Derek Hale, Top Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedAndUnstable/pseuds/DepravedAndUnstable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been feeling an itch all morning. (no not that kind of itch, pervert)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, but I've started another fic.

Stiles had been feeling an itch all morning. From the moment he'd dragged himself out of bed, there had been an incessant itching on his back, between his shoulders. He'd scratched at it absentmindedly through breakfast, and had rubbed desperately at it against his car seat on the way to work. When he'd finally arrived at the station he was about ready to claw his skin off if meant the relentless itching would stop.

He made a b-line for the bathroom, ignoring any attempts from his fellow officers to engage him, and once the doors were safely locked, and he'd ascertained that he was alone, he tore off his uniform and crammed his neck to see the cause of his steadily decreasing sanity. He'd been expecting a rash, maybe a bite of some kind, he was in no way ready for a soul mark to be forming on the sun-depraved skin of his sickly pale back.

See, Stiles was what one would call a 'late bloomer.' Most people got a soulmark not long after puberty, but Stiles was _t_ _wenty_. That was ridiculously late, and he'd long since come to terms with the fact that he might be one of those poor bastards that didn't have a soulmate. And now that the mark was taking form, he almost would have found a lifetime of loneliness preferable to the love-life that awaited him.

The mark was still faint, but the outline, the shape it was beginning to take, that was clear as day. It was a triskele. Three swirls joined together dead center of his shoulder-blades. Now, most people might have been ecstatic to recognize their soulmark, to know who their other half was right off the bat. In fact, Stiles knew numerous girls from his graduating class that would kill (no, seriously they would take another human beings life) if it meant they would get this particular soulmark.

The triskele was kind of a famous mark, locally at least.

When Stiles had been a Freshman in high school, and still with no hope of ever touching the field during a lacrosse game, the school's number one hunk, Derek Hale, had finally received his soulmark. When someone even remotely good looking got their mark, there was always a frenzy. But this was Derek Hale. Broody, smart, captain of the lacrosse team, and also a werewolf Derek Hale. The girls just about overloaded on the gossip.

Stiles had actually been in the locker-room when the team had first noticed the new mark, he'd seen the way Derek's eyes had darkened at it's mention. At first, he'd thought the guy just didn't like that he was the butt of jokes for once, but then the rumors had started flying around. According to a girl Stiles had sat next to in Biology, Derek's mark was a match with his uncles, Peter Hale. Blood bonds weren't totally unheard of, but they were becoming increasingly less common, and one hadn't been formed in Beacon Hills in anyone's living memory. But apparently that wasn't even the juiciest of it. The two couldn't stand each other, never could, and when they'd reluctantly touched nothing happened, no bond formed.

The girl had looked about ready to blow a gasket at this point, and Stiles couldn't blame her. A bond _always_ formed when two soulmates touched, so if the two werewolves had matching marks and a bond didn't form when they had touched, then that could only mean that they weren't soulmates but instead _shared_ one.

A three way bond.

Those were rare.

Like, ridiculously rare.

The whole town went a little bit crazy after that. A flood of reporters came into town, trying to get interviews from anyone in the local pack, but everyone turned them down. The girls, and a few of the guys, who hadn't gotten their marks yet hopped and prayed that they would get the triskele on their back. One sophomore broke down in tears when a four leaf clover formed on their right wrist instead.

Honestly, Stiles never did understand why being in a three way bond was so desirable to everyone. They all seemed to think it was so terribly romantic and incredibly hot. But Stiles knew better, he'd actually paid attention when they'd read Julius Caesar in English. Two perfectly nice guys that happened to share a soulmate, and how does it end? Blood, that's how. Brutus stabbed him in the back and ran off with Cleopatra.

There weren't very many cases of three way bonds, but the majority of them did not end well. Typically the jealousy would fester and grow until someone snapped. Experts speculated that if such a bond was to work, it was up to the shared soulmate to somehow find balance and keep the peace.

To Stiles it sounded like a nightmare, and especially with two werewolves. Werewolves are notoriously territorial of their soulmates, and that Peter Hale didn't really strike him as the stable type.  It was a recipe for disaster and he'd always pitied the poor soul that would get thrown into the middle of it all.

Except now he was that poor soul.

The mark was fully formed now, a stark black against his pale skin.

He shakily pulled his shirt back on, and turned to look at himself in the mirror.

The way he saw it, he had two choices.

The first, he could march into his fathers office, tell him his mark had finally formed and request the day off. The sheriff would smile warmly at him, probably say something cringe-worthy like "go get 'em champ" and he'd drive off in his jeep to bond with his two soulmates and spend the rest of his lifetime walking a thin line trying to keep the two from killing each other.

The second, he could walk calmly to his desk and pretend nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was cowardly, okay it was definitely cowardly, but he chose the second and he successfully managed to convince himself that it was for the best. He was fine on his own, always had been, and he'd heard around town that the packs Alpha had Derek and Peter under control. If he just waltzed into their lives it could throw off the precarious peace she'd worked so hard to make between them.

Stiles fell back into his usual pattern, going out on patrols, fussing over his fathers diet, going home alone. It was fine. He was fine. The Hales were fine.

Everything was fine.

Until two months later when a call woke him up at three a.m. and he scrambled out to the woods, half awake, to find Laura Hales body ripped in half.

 


	2. The Body in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this position Stiles could only see his back, but he knew how this would affect his longtime friend. He prayed to whatever merciful gods there might be that Scott didn’t throw up on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for your lovely comments and all the kudos :)

“What’s Scott doing here?”

In this situation, next to half of a body and not yet fully awake, Stiles wasn’t sure of very many things. For instance, he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to fasten all the buttons on his uniform correctly, and he couldn’t say if what the barista had put into his cup was even classified as coffee. But he was pretty sure that his best friend had no business standing next to his father and a mangled corpse.

“Yes, thank you.” Scott nodded as stiles, looking queasy and pointedly not letting his eyes fall on the nude lower half of a corpse, that lay a little over a yard away from them. “I was just telling your dad that I’m really not qualified to-”

“I’m not asking you for anything official.” The sheriff cut him off. “But it’ll take days for the coroner to get back to me, and if this is what I think it is…” He stopped and sighed, looking down at the body with a mixture of pity and dread on his features. “Look. I just need to know if what I’m looking for is an animal or a… not an animal. And I need to know now.”

“You think a werewolf did this?” Stiles blurted out, a little too loudly, and the grim atmosphere around them grew grimmer. No one answered his question, but that was telling enough.

Without moving from Scott’s side, Stiles examined the body more carefully. It looked like an animal attack to him, but then that’s exactly what werewolf kills usually resembled. He glanced up at the sky, but clouds blocked the view. Was it a full moon tonight?

“I never said that.” The sheriff continued louder so that everyone present could hear clearly. “Nobody is saying that. I don’t want any of you spreading rumors and causing a panic.”

He made eye contact with all of his men until, one by one, they averted their gazes and returned to work. Then he moved closer to Scott and Stiles, and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “I think this might have been a werewolf. Scott, please tell me this was a mountain lion or something.”

“But I’m just-”

“You’re in veterinarian school and are at the top of your class. You must be able to glean something from the marks.”

Scott looked torn, and a bit like he was about to be sick.

“Please, I hate to put you through this, but you’re the only thing I’ve got right now.”

Swallowing thickly, Scott jerked his head down and up in nervous agreement, and clamped his hand over his nose and mouth. Then he crouched down next to the body to examine it, careful to not touch anything.

From this position Stiles could only see his back, but he knew how this would affect his longtime friend. He prayed to whatever merciful gods there might be that Scott didn’t throw up on her.

Moving back, panting as if he’d just run a race, Scott dropped his hand. His expression dark. “I… it might have been a mountain lion.”

Stiles and his father held their breaths, both sensing the but coming.

“But I don’t think it was.” Scott continued in a rush, whether to stop them from interrupting or to get it all out while he had the nerve was unsure. “We’ve had a lot of rain this year. Which means lots of vegetation, which means lots of herbivores, which means lots of food for predators like mountain lions. They usually only attack humans when their starving. When their desperate.”

Silence followed his words, and something heavy seemed to engulf them all, making every movement and thought more difficult.

“Alright. Okay.” The sheriff closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Scott. I know that was hard for you.”

“But like I said, I’m not an expert.”

“I know.” The sheriff opened his eyes, decision made. “And we’ll get the opinion of one as soon as we can, but in the meantime we’re going to operate on the assumption that you’re right.”

Stiles studied his friend, not liking what he saw. He didn’t look well. Scott had dark smudges under his eyes and more stress marks than he was used to seeing on his care-free friend. Plus, he was still kind of worried the guy would hurl.“Hey man, why don’t you go home? There’s not much else for you to do here.”

Scott was visibly relieved, it was like Stiles was offering him a safety line, but the sheriff promptly yanked it from both of them.

“No. Sorry, but I still need you. You took an animal tracking class last semester, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never-”

“Doesn’t matter. Still means you’ve got more experience than most of the guys I’ve got out here. I need you to help me find the other half of the body.”

Stiles thought his friend might pass out from fright.

The sheriff turned to his son. “And I need you to pay a visit to the Hales.”

Stiles thought he might pass out from fright.

“The Hales? Why?” That was not panic in his voice. He was better than that.

Either way the sheriff didn’t seem to notice. “I’d hate to think that someone from the local pack did this, but it’s still a possibility. Talk to the alpha, and make a list of everyone without an alibi for earlier tonight.”

“But, but why do I have to do it? Dad, send someone else.” Okay, so maybe he was whining now, but if it would get him out of visiting the Hales house it’d be worth the shame.

“That’s sheriff to you deputy. We’re on the clock. And don’t tell me you’re still avoiding Derek.”

Stiles’ heart fluttered, suddenly he was hyper-aware of the shirt on his back, the fabric itchy against his skin. “Derek? Why would I be avoiding Derek? Derek who?”

Scott snorted, the backstabber. “Maybe because he once dunked your backpack in the toilet.” Stiles incomprehensibly stuttered a denial. “Or maybe because he once filled your locker with fake crickets, and you screamed like a five year old girl in front of the whole school.” More nervous stutters. “Or _maybe_ because-”

“Okay! Thank you Scott. You’ve proven your point.”

The sheriff grabbed Scott's arm and began pulling him away, towards the woods. “I know he was a jerk to you in high school, but that was years ago. I need you to do this. The less people that know this is a possible werewolf attack, the better. I’ll call you when we find the upper half and can identify the body.”

Stiles watched as his father and his best friend disappeared into the trees, leaving him to his fate. He waited until he saw the flash of a flashlight turning on before he headed for his car. He numbly turned the ignition and pulled out onto the road, turning toward Hale territory.

 


End file.
